Ghostly Touch
by Caz Malfoy
Summary: Angel broods and relaxes after a long day, while Spike watches eagerly...


**Title: **Ghostly Touch  
**Pairing: **Spike/Angel  
**Timeline: **After 'Conviction' (5x01)

x

The pressure from the shower was so intense that it almost hurt, but Angel was too tired to care. In truth, as the water droplets hit the back of his neck and slid down his shoulder blades, he hoped the pressure would be enough to force the tension from his muscles.

It had been a long day – hell, a long week and the arrival of William the Bloody was not making his transition from small time private investigator to big cheese at Wolfram and Hart any easier.

Resting his head against the cold tiles, Angel reached out and shut off the shower, reaching for his towel. The thought that Spike had died to save Buffy, Sunnydale and, ultimately the world, hurt more than it should. He tried to tell himself that it was because the British Vampire was now classed as a hero amongst the Slayer and her friends, but deep down inside he knew he was being stupid and only lying to himself.

The towel felt rough on his skin as he towel dried his chest and arms; the shower had made his skin raw and tender.

Angel stopped in his tracks when he saw the subject of his troubled thoughts standing at the foot of his bed, his arms folded across his chest and an annoyed look on his face.

When he spotted his Grand-sire, Spike's eyes immediately ran the length of the older Vampire's body, taking in the sight of his still wet cock before his gaze settled on his face. "Evenin'," he greeted with a nod of his head.

Angel sighed and ran the towel over his head, ridding his hair of its excess moisture. "Go away, Spike. Find somewhere else to haunt," he muttered wearily, crossing the room and tossing the towel down the laundry chute, where it was immediately incinerated by some kind of spell.

The blond followed him, coming to a stop half an inch away from Angel's back. "I would, pops. But you see, I…" He glanced down at the bare ass in front of him. "Well, to be perfectly honest, I like the view from here."

Angel swallowed thickly, willing himself not to react to Spike's words. He shivered with pleasure when he felt something touch his shoulder; it wasn't the usual coolness associated with ghostly touches, instead he felt heat radiating through him.

"You know…" Spike continued and Angel felt the heat spread down his back, stopping just above his ass. "I can't really touch you – which is a bitch, 'cause you look very delicious wet."

This time Angel was sure his gulp was audible and his suspicions were confirmed when Spike chuckled lightly. "What do you want, Spike?" he whispered, trying to put as much authority into his voice as possible.

"What do I want?" Spike repeated. "What I want, 'Angel-cakes', is for you to climb onto that bed and show me what I've been missing while you've been here in LA all on your lonesome."

Angel turned to face him, ignoring his hard cock and glaring at Spike as best as he could manage. "You know I'm not going to let you order me around," he stated, his accent beginning to thicken with an Irish brogue.

Spike's eyes sparkled mischievously as he stepped around Angel, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "I seem to remember you like me ordering you around, Liam. Or do you not recall that weekend in Argentina?"

The brunet's mind immediately flashed back to balmy summer nights and passion-filled kisses and caresses. Before he knew it, Angel found himself lying on the bed, looking up at Spike who was now standing a few feet away, looking at his cock expectantly.

Too aroused to care, Angel ran his hand down his chest, burying his fingers in his chest hair while he teased his nipples and tugging them harshly, drawing a gasp from him as his legs fell apart, exposing himself to the room.

He was vaguely aware of Spike drawing in an unneeded breath, but at that moment Angel was too fare gone he wasn't even aware of his presence anymore. He groaned in pleasure when his fingers ran through his pubic hair before they curled around the base of his cock.

His other hand reached down, rolling his balls in the palm while he began stroking, up and down slowly, skimming his fingers over his head. His hooded eyes glanced over at Spike who was still standing, rooted to the spot as he watched the other Vampire intently.

Angel tightened his grip on his thick cock and slid him other hand further back, dragging in a gasp when his index finger breached his entrance, not stopping until it was buried completely to the knuckle.

His back arched, almost lifting him completely off the bed as he pressed against his prostate. He felt his balls tightened and he came with a low cry of Spike's name, spilling his seed over his hand and stomach.

Angel groaned as he flopped against the pillows; his chest heaving as his lungs automatically tried to recover; even after two hundred years of not needing oxygen. His body didn't feel tense any more and his mind was telling him to roll over and sleep until the following evening.

With difficulty, he opened eyes he didn't realise he had closed, looking around the bedroom. Spike was nowhere to be seen, having already disappeared to wherever it was ghosts liked to dwell when they weren't haunting someone.

x


End file.
